


here with me

by chocolatebirdie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, but im not that great at angst so idk, the ziam is minor i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3480521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatebirdie/pseuds/chocolatebirdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck it,” Harry mumbled. Before Louis had the chance to think, Harry was cradling his face with both of his hands and kissing him.</p><p>The kiss was short, chaste. Harry didn’t kiss Louis to get kissed back. That wasn’t the point. It was simply a brush of lips, a way for Harry to show Louis what he’d never been able to say for five years.</p><p>Harry pulled away quickly and smiled sadly down at Louis, who looked absolutely shell-shocked. “Bye, Lou,” he murmured, walking out of his own apartment, Louis still frozen in the middle of it.</p><p>~~</p><p>or...</p><p>louis is really oblivious to everything, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here with me

**Author's Note:**

> hi, so, a few things:
> 
> 1\. this is my first ever larry fic, which is both exciting and terrifying. i'm used to a much much smaller fandom (kurtbastian, if you were curious) so this is all very new to me. being gentle would be appreciated :)
> 
> 2\. i am very much american but i tried my best (and got a british friend to help - thank you artemis!) so that you're not sitting here like 'oh my god a british person would never say that.'
> 
> 3\. despite what you may believe by the end of this fic, i really do love larry. so uh. im sorry?
> 
> 4\. title from something great. ;)
> 
> and as always, thank you to my amazing friend and beta, ally! (sebklaine on here)

“Harry?” Louis called into the flat late one night. Harry was in his room, partially under the sheets, which were a tangled mess around his limbs, but sitting upright. He was sniffling into the sleeve of his jumper and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

“I can’t do this, Lou,” he mumbled, barely audible.

“Haz – what – ” Louis moved closer to Harry. He stopped at the foot of the bed, unsure if Harry wanted comfort or distance.

“I’m so tired. It’s been so many years and I’m fucking _exhausted_.”

“With what? The band? Do you – ?”

“No, no, I just…” Harry sighed. He started to get off the bed and Louis backed up just a step, away from the bed and closer to the wall and the bedroom door, again giving Harry space.

Harry just sighed in frustration from where he stood, before stalking the few feet over to where Louis was. He got so close their chests were almost touching and Louis was going cross-eyed trying to look Harry in the eye.

“Fuck it,” Harry mumbled. Before Louis had the chance to think, Harry was cradling his face with both of his hands and kissing him.

The kiss was short, chaste. Harry didn’t kiss Louis to get kissed back. That wasn’t the point. It was simply a brush of lips, a way for Harry to show Louis what he’d never been able to say for five years.

Harry pulled away quickly and smiled sadly down at Louis, who looked absolutely shell-shocked. “Bye, Lou,” he murmured, walking out of his own apartment, Louis still frozen in the middle of it.

* * *

Harry went to Niall’s.

* * *

Louis went to Liam’s.

* * *

“I kissed him.”

* * *

“He _kissed_ me.”

* * *

“Wanna talk?" 

“No,” Harry said immediately.

“Okay.”

* * *

“I can’t believe he kissed me,” Louis muttered, mostly to himself.

“You can’t?” Liam sounded genuinely surprised.

They were in Liam’s kitchen, Liam sitting in a chair while Louis stood a few feet away, his back leaning on the counter, arms crossed while he thought over everything that had just happened. 

“No,” Louis said. “Of course not. I thought I knew my own best friend better than that.”

Liam smiled at Louis, sadly and a little sympathetically. Why was he looking at him like that? He didn’t like it.

“We thought you knew,” Liam said after a moment. “We all knew.”

And Louis was about to argue that – clearly they didn’t _all_ know if Louis _himself_ didn’t know – when Zayn stumbled into the room, coming from the direction of Liam’s bedroom, wearing nothing but his underwear. He yawned as he scratched lazily at his belly. “We all knew wha’?” he yawned again.

Louis looked from Zayn to Liam, back to Zayn and again to Liam, where he saw a blush blooming on Liam’s cheeks. And –

What?

 _What_?

Louis didn’t know anything anymore.

* * *

Despite his earlier statement, Harry was word-vomiting the whole embarrassing story to Niall, who was being a very good listener. Or pretend-listener. To be honest, Harry didn’t really care which.

“And then he just stared at me, Niall, like I had two heads and five arms or something. And I just… left.”

“You _left_?”

Actual listener, then.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed.

“You didn’t give him a chance to say anything?”

“Er… no.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Why would I?” Harry countered.

“Oh, I don’t know. To give him the chance to say ‘I love you, Haz, have my babies’?” Niall said, pitching his voice well above where Louis’ actually was.

“He would _not_ say that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

"Yes, I do!”

“No you don’t!”

“Fuck off,” Harry grumbled.

Niall just laughed.

* * *

“Would someone like to explain, or…?” Louis trailed off.

“Um.” Liam coughed. “We, uh – ”

“We’re together,” Zayn interjected.

Louis’ eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

Liam nodded slowly; Zayn just smirked a little.

“For how long?”

“Er…” Liam scratched his neck nervously.

“Technically?” Zayn said. “A couple months. But…”

“We’ve been – uh – off and on, um, pretty much this whole time,” Liam finished, face red all over and looking at his feet.

Louis just sighed, because, like, really. Really? This _whole_ time?

_It’s been so many years…_

_Fuck_.

Had Harry felt this way this whole time too? Was Louis just oblivious to the whole fucking world?

“Harry,” he started, his voice cracking. “Harry said – he said ‘it’s been so many years.’ And that he just couldn’t do it anymore, but…” Louis ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it a little as he gathered his thoughts. “I don’t even know what ‘it’ is. Me, or us, or…” _the band_ , he finishes in his head. Harry had said it wasn’t the band, but who knew? If he was done with Louis, well – Louis was in the band. Hard to be done with someone you see almost every single day of the year.

Liam got up from where he’d still been sitting to wrap Louis in a hug. “It’ll be okay, mate,” he murmured. “Just go back to his place, yeah? He’ll have to go back there eventually.”

“Unless he moves,” Louis mumbled. It was possible. If he hired movers he would literally never have to step foot back in there again.

“ _Louis_ ,” Liam said exasperatedly.

“It’s not impossible.”

“He’s the one who’s feeling embarrassed,” Zayn said quietly from where he stood behind Liam. “You should go back. Let him know you’re not, like, done with him just because he’s in love with you.”

“He never said he’s in love with me,” Louis said automatically.

“Please,” Liam said, exasperated again.

“Stop that,” Louis snapped. “Stop acting like you know everything about this. Or that I’m stupid because I don’t. I literally, not even an hour ago, just got the biggest shock of my life. It’s not my fault I didn’t know.” Liam raised his eyebrows. “It’s not!” Louis repeated.

“The rest of us knew,” Liam pointed out. “Shit, mate, ninety percent of our fans knew. Or at least strongly, strongly suspected.” He paused. “Or hoped. Or both.”

“I don’t – I – ” Louis faltered. Because yeah, they’ve been getting questions about ‘Larry Stylinson’ from the get-go. Questions, drawings, tweets, fanfictions, all of it. But.

“I thought it was a joke,” Louis mumbled to the ground. “Like – ” _Like you two_ , he almost said, before he remembered.

God damn it.

And, god – that was it, wasn’t it? That was what Harry couldn’t take anymore of. The jokes. The teasing, the flirting, the gestures – all the little things that set off the fans and the interviewers, all the things Louis loved about being best friends with Harry.

All the times they pushed the ‘friends’ boundary, for fun, just because they could, just because that’s how they were.

Or that’s how Louis thought they were. Apparently he was just really, really clueless.

Clueless, and lost. He had _no_ idea what to do. What did he say to Harry? How did he apologizing for hurting Harry for five _years_ when he hadn’t even known he’d been doing it?

“I don’t think I can go back there,” he said quietly.

“Louis,” Liam admonished.

“No, I don’t mean like – I’m not mad, or uncomfortable, or anything. I just – I don’t know how to…”

“Let him down?”

Louis sighed. “Yeah.”

“You sure that’s what you even wanna do, mate?”

Louis didn’t answer right away. To be quite honest, he hadn’t ever considered Harry in that way. In the abstract, perhaps – he wondered, for example, how long Twitter would be down if he and Harry ever actually dated and the public found out – but not in terms of ‘ _do I have actual feelings for my best friend?_ ’

And. Louis wasn’t sure. He didn’t think so, but what if he just needed to mull it over? Maybe he’d have some sort of epiphany. It was possible. He had to at least think about it. This was his best friend, his _best_ friend who had just bared his heart to him and Louis just had to reconsider everything for him. He had to, he wanted to, for Harry.

“I’m just – I need to think,” he said finally, not really looking at Liam and Zayn as he waved goodbye to them and made his way back to his own flat.

* * *

“I can’t go back. What if he’s there?” Harry bit down on his lip, curling into the blanket he had over his legs on Niall’s couch.

“What if he’s not?”

 _That’d be worse_ , Harry thought. Because as much as he didn’t want to face Louis – tonight, tomorrow, or maybe ever, if that were actually possible – the idea of Louis being gone was too painful. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t expect Louis to be sitting there in his flat after all this time, not having known where Harry went or if he was coming back. But, well. Harry never claimed to be logical.

“I just – I’d really like to sleep and forget about it,” Harry said.

“This’ll still be here tomorrow, you know,” Niall said.

Harry rolled his eyes, twisting around on the couch to get in a new position. “Thanks, genius, I had no idea.”

“Jesus, you’re insufferable,” Niall said. “You kiss him, leave without giving him a chance to speak, and you won’t go back to see if he’s there waiting for you because you’re afraid he won’t be, all the while you haven’t even properly _said_ anything to him? Not even where you are? Or that you’re, y’know, alive and well?”

Harry felt himself flush a little with guilt at that, because, yeah, Niall had a point. Damn him.

So, a few minutes later Harry decided to at least text Louis to let him know he was all right. And no, he definitely wasn’t hoping for Louis to come find him. Of course not.

**Harry: at niall’s for the night. you okay?**

**Louis: yup. :)**

Not a very telling reply, but a reply, at least. Harry’d take what he could get.

And as two a.m. rolled around – roughly three hours after Harry had told Louis his deepest secret – and Harry was drifting off to sleep, he was not disappointed that Louis hadn’t showed up, absolutely not. That would be unfair.

* * *

Louis doesn’t show the next morning either, and Harry was disappointed in spite of himself. Even if it wasn’t fair.

“Mate, ya dropped the biggest bomb of the kid’s life on him,” Niall told him for the third time that day. “I’m telling you, he was fuckin’ clueless. Just give him some time, yeah? He’ll come to you.”

* * *

He doesn’t.

It’s been almost three full days – sixty-five hours, not that Harry was counting, he wasn’t – and he hasn’t seen or heard from Louis. Which, is shit, yeah, but he could’ve chalked it up to rejection.

If it weren’t for the fact that no one else had heard from him, either.

**Liam: I’m sorry, mate, but I’ve texted him twice today already. Don’t wanna bug him too bad. He might just need the space.**

Harry glared at his phone for a full thirty seconds, ignoring the part of him that knew Liam was right.

**Harry: sure you’re okay?**

Right around the seventy-two hour mark since The Confession, Harry gets a text from Louis.

**Louis: yeah .**

Which, shouldn’t make his face split into a full-blown grin and his heart race, because it was one text and one word and there wasn’t even an emoji or _anything_ , but.

But Louis answered him. And that was enough for him.

* * *

It’d been three days. Three days since Louis saw Harry and had his world turned upside down.

Louis was avoiding Harry, he knew he was, and he knew it wasn’t fair. At first he’d just been thinking – thinking more than he ever had before in his life, to be honest – but now.

Now he was just procrastinating. Because he knew his answer. He knew what he was going to say to Harry but he just couldn’t. Not yet. He couldn’t stomach the idea of breaking Harry’s heart all over again.

* * *

After five horribly long days (Harry had lost track of the hours - which was unfortunate, because he’d liked the drama of it) there was a knock on Harry’s door.

And it was Louis.

 _Louis_.

“Hi,” Harry breathed.

“Hi,” Louis said sweetly. “Er – can I come in?”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, of course,” Harry said, shuffling so that Louis could get in.

Louis came in and walked into Harry’s living room, making himself at home as usual – except.

Except he didn’t sit down.

He stood. In the middle of the living room, with a slightly panicked expression on his face, Louis stood.

No. Oh, no, please no. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised – he had told himself, after all, that he hadn’t kissed Louis to be kissed back – but he couldn’t help but hope, could he?

His heart had dropped somewhere in his stomach and there was a fucking waterfall trying to burst out of his eyes, and no, he wouldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this.

“I don’t know how to start,” Louis spoke first.

Harry couldn’t speak at all.

“I – um. I had no idea. About how – how you felt, Harry, you have to know that,” Louis pled, and when Harry dared to look into his eyes, he knew Louis spoke the truth. Of course he did. This was Louis – Louis, his best mate, who would never hurt him on purpose.

So Harry nodded, ever so slightly, in acknowledgement. It was all he could manage. If he opened his mouth he was afraid he’d either vomit or sob, and neither sounded particularly appealing.

“I would’ve never – I wouldn’t have kept carrying on like that if I knew,” Louis continued, and okay, ouch. That, he had not expected. “Not – shit. Not because I’m uncomfortable, okay? I’m not. Honest. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Or hurt you.” He looked down at his feet as he muttered, “A little late for that, though, I guess.”

Harry cleared his throat, forced himself to breathe so that he would actually speak when he opened his mouth, not puke or cry. “’S not your fault,” he said finally. “Couldn’t expect you to know when I never told you.”

Louis laughed humorlessly at that. “Everyone else knew, apparently,” he said. “The boys, the fans, me mum – ”

“Your mum?” His _mum_ knew?

Louis called his mum about this?

Louis smiled sheepishly at that. “I spent a lot of time thinking and I needed to talk to someone about it,” he admitted.

Someone who wasn’t one of the boys.

Someone who wouldn’t push Louis to go after Harry.

Was there a knife in his heart?

“I’m – ” Louis stopped. “I’m really sorry, Harry,” Louis whispered.

No, no, no, no, _no_ , please please _please_ –

“I just – I don’t – ”

– ten knives stabbed Harry’s heart and he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t hear this, he just couldn’t –

“I love you,” Louis said, and that just made it worse, because Harry could hear the _but_ before it even came – “but not like that.”

Harry couldn’t see, couldn’t see anything but his own stupid fucking tears and couldn’t hear anything over the sound of himself, sobbing, and fuck, he was wrecked, wasn’t he? He was a damn mess.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Louis said, and this time he didn’t even try to comfort Harry; he stayed where he was.

Which, yeah, Harry appreciated. He really couldn’t handle a hug from Louis right now.

But it also made him sob just that bit louder and cry that little bit harder, because he knew, he knew, that even when they got past this, every hug was going to hurt just that little bit more than it had before – when he had let himself hope, in the deepest depths of his heart, that Louis felt the same.

“Do you want me to go?” Louis asked quietly after a few minutes.

No. No. _Don’t leave me. Stay. Stay with me, be with me, love me –_

“I think… that’d probably be best,” Harry said at last.

Louis nodded, hurt but understanding, and shuffled back out of the door.

* * *

Harry had sunk to the ground at some point. He really didn’t know when that was. He’d stopped crying an hour ago, but only because he was pretty sure he’d completely dried out his tear ducts, because the pain was just as sharp in his heart as it was when Louis had just turned him down.

Eventually Niall came, of course he did, and wrapped his arms around Harry, rocking him just slightly so that Harry’s breathing would even. He let Niall stand him up and half-carry him to his bed, tuck him in, the works. If he weren’t so exhausted he’d be so incredibly grateful.

“Goodnight,” Niall whispered, flicking out the light in his room.

* * *

When he woke the next morning, Niall was humming to himself as he flipped pancakes in Harry’s kitchen.

Harry really, really loved Niall. 

* * *

The following day Liam came over with a dozen different kinds of sweets in his arms as well as a handful of films. He overheard Liam tell Niall when they both thought he couldn’t hear them that Zayn was with Louis, and Harry finds himself, once again, grateful for his amazing friends. Grateful that Louis wasn’t alone, that the boys weren’t angry with him.

* * *

Harry went to see Louis two weeks after The Confession – nine days after The Rejection. It was too soon for Harry, but with all of the interviews and events coming up he knew they couldn’t avoid this moment forever.

It was awkward and new in a way they’d never been before, but they dealt with it. Didn’t they always?

* * *

Harry writes a lot of songs about Louis. Some of them they start recording – the ones that are a bit more vague, because really, it’s awkward enough that he knows everyone knows they’re about Louis; he doesn’t need everyone to know every depressing detail, too – and others he keeps to himself, hidden away in journals in drawers, extracted on the worst days, when Harry just needs to cry and cry and cry.

* * *

Six months after The Rejection, Harry can hug Louis without fighting tears. He can see Louis smile at him and smile back – dimples and all – without feeling that damn knife in his heart. 

And Harry thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might be okay one day.

**Author's Note:**

> this was all centered around a couple texts i sent a friend late one night when i thought about what might be actually happening with these two. and i thought a really interesting dynamic (and not entirely impossible scenario) would be that harry has been serious this whole time, during all the interviews and such, about his feelings for louis, and louis thought it was all a joke - not meanly, but just, you know, as people do sometimes. and so here louis thinks they're best friends and harry's got this unrequited love and - well. you read the fic. you saw where that lead.
> 
> i would've loved to make it a happy ending, but 1. i have a very complicated love for angst, and 2. i didn't wanna be cliche and simplistic. i like the messy stuff, and the originality.
> 
> (don't hate me pls)


End file.
